


Guest Room

by Flamebyrd



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: First Impressions, Gen, post tale of the body thief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 07:51:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3402713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamebyrd/pseuds/Flamebyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David comes to the house on Rue Royale after he leaves Lestat. (Set during the final chapter of <i>Tale of the Body Thief</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Louis

**Author's Note:**

> I get the impression there were a lot of these stories back in the 90s. I recently reread the book and found myself with the inescapable urge to write my own take on it.

There was somebody waiting at the bottom of the stairs in the back courtyard of the flat on Rue Royale. Louis pondered backing away down the covered carriageway, letting the gate close behind him and disappearing into the wilds of the city. He had no desire for confrontation with Lestat still absent.

The figure turned, and now he recognised that face, that body. How could he have forgotten! But it moved with preternatural swiftness now. The body thief; Raglan James.

He had not managed to extract the full story from Lestat. He hadn't really tried - Lestat had been locking himself in his study to write most nights. Louis had expected soon enough Lestat would demand Louis read it and tell him how brilliant he was, just as he had while he worked on _Queen of the Damned_. It didn't seem to matter that Louis was very bad at this. He was more inclined to express dismay at Lestat's gleeful disregard for such things as privacy and basic morality. But Lestat would not be refused! Such conversations ended in arguments more often than not.

Nonetheless he was under the impression that the thief had been defeated, so then who was this wearing the body? Had Lestat merely defeated James by giving him what he desired?

Had Lestat found someone else to give him the Dark Gift, and then returned the body to James? Had that been James's plan all along?

Louis was still standing in place at the threshold, where the grass was struggling to grow between worn paving stones. There was no point in running now that he had been noticed, so he stepped further into the courtyard.

There was the briefest of touches on his mind, like a mortal knocking on a door. He had neither the control to shut it out nor to respond in kind, so he ignored it.

The figure ventured a few steps forward, down the stairs. It moved nothing like Lestat had described Raglan James. This had only the slight hesitation and clumsiness of a newly turned vampire.

"Louis? I am David Talbot," said the figure. To a mortal his tone would have been barely audible. "We've met before, although I do not believe we were formally introduced at the time."

The crisp British accent was at odds with the body, but it matched his memory of that long ago conversation in London. How he had pitied David Talbot at that moment! And yet Lestat had made a friend of him through persistence and unapologetic exploitation of the Talamascan's curiosity.

And it made far more sense for David Talbot than Raglan James to be standing on the back stairs of the townhouse, politely awaiting the arrival of his host.

"Will you tell me something that proves who you are?" It was mostly for his own comfort. He knew if Lestat had finally turned his mortal friend with all the new power that lived in his blood, Louis was not strong enough to prevent David from anything he may choose to do.

David smiled. "There is little I can tell you that I could not have gained from the books, were I an impostor. Your Lestat shares too much of himself with the world for words to be any proof."

Louis thought of protesting the possessive, then shrugged. "Lestat isn't here," he pointed out.

David laughed, although there was little humour in it. "I know. I left him in Barbados."

To demand further explanation seemed premature. He walked past David and unlocked the door with the key which Lestat laughed at him for needing. He turned after opening the door. "Will you come in?"

The invitation was awkward; it felt unnatural on his lips. Louis did not do a lot of entertaining.

But David followed him inside, eyes tracking every detail of the back parlour with the enthusiasm of a scholar. It amused Louis to think that this house - to him akin to a memory slowly being restored - must be to a Talamascan like stepping into a legend. A story from a book, suddenly come to life.

There was only one vampire who would have dared turn the Superior General of the Talamasca. "Am I to assume that Lestat finally convinced you to accept his offer?"

David smiled grimly. "Oh, no. I was content to face merely another fifty years in this new body. It was Lestat who ran out of patience."

If Louis had been holding anything he might have dropped it. As it was, he felt his mouth fall open, staring at David in horror.

His own words to Lestat flooded back to him. _Could you make another, after all that's passed? Could you work the Dark Trick again?_

He might have known Lestat would have seen it as a challenge.

Louis felt a sudden, fierce empathy for David Talbot. The man had been Louis's unknowing ally in convincing Lestat to reject the Raglan James's offer. His only mistake was in helping Lestat after he plunged headfirst into another disaster of his own making, which was no mistake at all.

He realised he had still said nothing and that David was watching him with cautious eyes. Louis wondered what impression David must have formed of him - gathered from files and their books and perhaps Lestat's own voice. What reaction had David anticipated for his revelation?

But what could Louis say? He had no words. He was not shocked, he could not express disbelief. It was all so damnably predictable.

He gestured that David should follow him.

Louis led him into the front parlour and indicated that David should sit. This David did, still hesitant in this new body. Louis seated himself in the closest chair and leaned forward. "Tell me what happened."


	2. David

The most remarkable thing about being here with Louis de Pointe du Lac in the very house he had studied and documented in meticulous detail, was that Louis actually was as beautiful as Lestat had described. David had been too focussed on Lestat to pay attention to his silent shadow on their first meeting. Now, standing in front of him, it felt ludicrous somehow - one final unbelievable thing on top of everything that pulled the situation into absurdity.

His eyes were green, his hair was black and falling untamed over his shoulders, and he dressed as one who cared little for his own appearance. His voice was soft and low. All as Lestat had said.

Louis listened to David's story with his head cocked to the side. His emotions flickered over his face as David talked, despair and resignation and sympathy in full display.

At last, David reached the end of his sorry tale. There was no moral to share at the end, no great revelation to impart upon his audience. He was left with only his own conviction that he should have known better.

Except that this entire affair had been not of his will, from the very beginning! He let his head fall back against the chair. Every movement felt deliberate now, like he was deliberately posing himself for effect.

At last, Louis spoke. "To create a new vampire is terrible enough, but to do it against your will is abhorrent." He stood, pacing to the window and staring through it unseeing.

"Yet he refuses to explain himself to me," continued David, the frustration returning. "I am angry that this choice was taken from me - of course I am angry! But I am livid that he will not even offer excuses for it."

Louis shrugged, his threadbare, loose sweater almost slipping from his shoulder with the movement. "I doubt there is anything to explain," he said carefully. "He simply wanted to. You may as well demand explanations of a child for stealing sweets."

As if those two things were at all equivalent! "He is infuriating," said David. "I do not know how you stand it."

A little furrow appeared in Louis's brow. "You have read the books. I would hesitate to describe my behaviour as tolerant."

He had been expecting Louis to temper the statement with an acknowledgement that this was just what one expected of Lestat. Perhaps a dismissive laugh, an affirmation that they loved their Brat Prince anyway. But Louis seemed genuinely angry at David's situation. It was quite remarkable.

Louis sat down opposite him again, hands clasped in his lap. "If you have come here to escape him, I fear you will not be successful. He will doubtless return to check on the progress of the house within weeks, if not sooner."

"Oh, no. I am counting on it." David sighed. "I have already forgiven him, you see. I just do not wish him to know it yet."

Now, Louis's lips turned up at the edges into the faintest of smiles. "That I understand. It does not do to let him see he is forgiven so quickly."

They looked at each other, in that moment united as if in some conspiracy.

"Have you noticed," said David slowly, "that he comes to you for advice and then does the complete opposite of what you say?"

"He takes offense if you disagree with him! If the idea isn't his, he has no interest in it," Louis agreed. "And he takes such joy in his 'evil' nature, when it is little more than contrariness and a desire for attention!"

This time David gave in to the temptation to laugh. "He never even _tries_ to accept criticism!"

"He would rather despair when something goes wrong than try to prevent it."

"He really does make the most terrible decisions," groaned David. "It is a wonder he has survived as long as he has."

"He tried to destroy himself," said Louis suddenly, "and he didn't tell me until he'd almost forgotten all about it."

David started. He had almost forgotten it himself - how long ago that conversation seemed now. He felt embarrassed to recall his outburst of emotion at the time. And of course he could never tell Louis any of it, although he didn't doubt that Lestat would, in time.

He looked cautiously back at Louis, but Louis's expression was perfectly composed - a mask of melancholy resignation. As David watched, his lips stretched into a rueful smile. "I suppose it's flattering, to be the focus of his attention."

"To be loved by him," corrected David.

Louis ducked his head shyly. "As you say." He hesitated a moment. "I am very pleased to properly meet you at last."

David realized then that he had been treating Louis like an old friend. Books and Lestat's incessant babbling about his recalcitrant fledgling had led him into the trap of thinking he _knew_  Louis.

"It was abominably rude of me to invite myself to stay in your house without even asking," said David. "I must apologise profusely."

Louis looked surprised. "Oh, but it is Lestat's house. You are doubtless welcome. He forgives easily." His expression turned pensive. "I suppose all of us do, in our own way."

David met his gaze, smiling sheepishly. "As evidenced."

"But I hope for both our sakes that he does not follow you here tomorrow," said Louis. "I do not have the patience to argue with him right now."

At this David could only laugh, and if there was a touch of hysteria in it, Louis did not call him on it. Once he recovered his aplomb, David spoke again. "Whether or not Lestat is here, it is your right to not share your living space."

Louis shrugged again. "I do not mind." His gaze raked over the room and its exquisite retro-fittings. "My memories of this place are not of peace and quiet."

David glanced at him cautiously, but there was no sign of sorrow in Louis's demeanour. "Then I would be pleased to stay, although I should warn you I will not be as lively a companion as Lestat."

"That," said Louis in a firm tone, "Will be quite fine."

**Author's Note:**

> Technically I wanted to write something light-hearted about Louis and David bonding about how irritating Lestat could be, but it wanted to be this instead. Ah well.
> 
> PS: I specifically edited this work to get a wordcount of 1992, the same as the publication year of the book. It was too good an opportunity to waste.


End file.
